


we fight as hard as we love

by sharoncarters



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 06:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7349848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharoncarters/pseuds/sharoncarters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon navigates high school, her anger issues, and hating Steve Rogers, respectively. / A Steve and Sharon high school hate sex drabble series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering where these drabbles went from my other series, hopefully not too far, fear no more. i've been having so much fun writing enemies with benefits staron that i've decided to make it an entirely separate series!

Senior Year

 

* * *

 

“Natasha, _no_ ,” Sharon practically whines, coming to a halt at the entrance of the diner her friend has just dragged her to. 

Nat rolls her eyes, tugging Sharon forward by the arm, but Sharon stubbornly keeps her feet planted. “I thought you said we were going out with _friends_ ,” Sharon huffs, and Nat gives up on trying to tug her inside. 

“I did, and Steve’s my friend, so get over yourself, okay? It’s only for a few hours. I’ll pay for your food,” Nat throws in when she sees that Sharon isn’t going to relent, and that changes the blonde’s mood instantly. 

“Well, if you insist,” Sharon grins cheekily, finally following Nat through the door. 

 

* * *

 

Sharon has no idea what Natasha sees in Steve, as a friend or even a human being for that matter. Because Sharon’s not entirely sure that he is. A human being, she means. He’s more like an android. An annoying, well-dressed, epitome of annoying android placed in this earth just to piss her off, she’s sure of it.

Because honestly, who wears fucking sweater vests anymore? And to a casual hangout? God, if he’s not the most pretentious asshole she’s ever met in her life, she doesn’t know who is. 

She makes a point of flopping down into the booth without saying hi to him when Natasha does, and ignores the expectant look that he gives her when she does it. He may not be the kind of person to ignore his manners, but Sharon sure is, especially when it comes to her enemies. Which is a strong word to use, sure, but she’s not really sure what he is if he’s not her enemy. 

Plus, Sharon isn’t above being a petty bitch every now and again, so sue her. She has to find her entertainment somewhere. 

Steve rolls his eyes after about a minute of silence and finally addresses her. “Sharon,” he says, fake politely, and Sharon can feel her eyes rolling far back into the depths of her skull. 

“Steven,” she responds, equally as fake, and adds in a brilliant smile just to piss him off. His expression twists into a grimace, which Sharon ignores, reaching for a menu instead.

She debates picking the most expensive burger on the menu just to piss Natasha off, but then realizes that that’s probably a little _too_ rude, even for her. Sam and Maria arrive eventually, distracting Steve for a while, but his gaze still flits over to Sharon every now again while she’s eating, as if he’s judging her for having an appetite. 

Sharon feels very tense under his gaze, to say the least, and can’t help but snap at him. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I’m sorry?” he asks, and Sharon holds back a groan of irritation. He’s a good actor, she’ll give him that. He makes it sound like he has no idea what she’s talking about. Maria and Sam watch them warily, not wanting to cause a public scene. Natasha just looks giddy, which Sharon is definitely going to address later. For now, she’s just pissed off. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Sharon hisses, trying to keep her voice down. “You think I’m gross or whatever, but I don’t care. I love burgers, so. Fight me.” It’s lame, but when Sharon gets to a certain level of anger she can’t really think straight. “Women can eat too, in case you didn’t know.” 

“Okay,” Steve responds with a faint chuckle, and god, Sharon wants to strangle him, she really does, “I think you’re projecting.” 

“That’s it, I’m leaving.” Sharon gathers up her stuff, shoving one last fry into her mouth with a pointed look at Steve, and starts to make her way towards the exit. 

“I was your ride!” Natasha yells after her, but Sharon’s too angry to think straight. 

“I’ll walk!” she shouts back, hating herself for needing to be so dramatic, but also feeling pretty smug about it. 

 

* * *

 

Sharon’s problem with Steve goes back as long as she can remember, which in this case actually means the first day of high school. She had come to stay with Aunt Peggy after her parents died, and starting high school on top of all of those feelings was rough, to say the least. 

Something about Steve’s smug attitude and endless put-togetherness had pissed her off to no end, especially because for a good year she felt like her life was completely falling apart. It didn’t help that he was unbelievably good at everything he did either. The one thing Sharon was good at, track, also happened to be his best sport, and he was good at everything else besides. Academics, sports, even fucking electives: he was the best in every class.

And Sharon couldn’t stand it. 

She’d made this known to literally everyone at school, but that didn’t stop people from being friends with him or asking her _why_ she hated him so much. And, in Sharon’s defense, did she really need a “why”? Steve just bothered her, is all. She didn’t think it was a big deal, except for the fact that he seemed to invade her life in every way possible, from being Aunt Peggy’s favorite bag boy at the grocery store, to being friends with Natasha, Sharon’s _best_ friend. She was just sick and tired of him, to be honest, and she wished that he’d just leave her alone. 

 

* * *

 

“Can you get that?” Nat asks Sharon, as she’s setting up all of the snacks and board games for their game night. Nat had thought of it a few weeks back, and they’d made it a weekly event, inviting their friends to hang out every Friday night to let off some steam and ignore their responsibilities for a few hours. It was less exciting than going to a club, sure, but it was fun and they lived in a small town, so. 

Sharon makes a show of complaining, but gets up to open the door anyway, immediately wishing she hadn’t. Steve Rogers is standing there, looking as casual as she’s ever seen him, even though he’s still wearing a button-up. What a dork. 

“Wrong house,” Sharon starts, attempting to close the door in his face, but he just laughs good-naturedly, sticking his arm out to keep it open. Sharon strains against him a bit, but then gives up when she realizes it’s no use. “I hate you,” she mutters as he forces his way into the house and her personal space, and Steve shrugs like he doesn’t mind. Asshole. 

“I know,” he says, like it doesn’t bother him. Sharon follows him back into Natasha’s living room, wondering what the hell he means by that. 

“Oh good,” Nat says when she makes her way into the living room, “you’re here.”

“Isn’t it just grand?” Sharon quips, giving Nat a pointed look, which Natasha completely ignores, continuing her conversation with Steve. “Sam and Maria are still coming, right?” she asks him. 

“Actually, they can’t make it. But Bucky’s on his way.”

“Wait a second,” Sharon pauses, hating the direction that this night is going in. “Aren’t we playing pictionary?” Aka, a team game. One in which Sam is usually her partner. And Nat and Bucky are dating. So that just leaves…

“Looks that way, partner,” Steve smirks, looking over at her, and Sharon swears she feels vomit swimming up her throat. 

 

* * *

 

They end up winning every game, which is surprising. Once Sharon gets over the initial disgust of being on the same team as Steve, she realizes that they actually make a pretty good pair. Which, gross, but in the context of Sharon’s intense competitive streak, it’s actually pretty great. 

“You’re not a bad artist,” she tells him while Bucky’s helping Nat clean up the living room. 

“Was that a compliment?” Steve teases, causing Sharon to roll her eyes, “Alert the presses! I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Well, don’t get used to it.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” 

 

* * *

 

“You are the most frustrating human being I have ever met,” Steve gasps around her mouth, and Sharon ignores him, focusing instead on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Stupid, pretentious prick with his stupid layers and stupid shirts with buttons. Why can’t he just wear t-shirts like every other high school boy on the planet? 

“Shut up,” she mutters, shucking her own t-shirt off, not giving him the satisfaction of removing it himself. 

“Make me,” he banters back, and Sharon does just that, fastening her mouth against his. 

His lips move down her neck, and if she closes her eyes, she can pretend that she’s somewhere else, _with_ someone else, until he opens his mouth again. 

“Why do I even like you?” he grumbles against her skin, more for his own sake than hers, she assumes, but something bubbles up in her chest anyway that she immediately shoves down. 

This is stupid, meeting up with him in abandoned closets and empty locker rooms, like her life is a shitty version of a CW show, but she can’t bring herself to stop. He just drives her absolutely _insane_ , even more so because he’s so good at what he does to her body. She hates him even more for it. 

“Because I’m awesome,” she tells him, and he huffs out a laugh, running his fingers through her hair and tucking it behind her ears. It’s oddly intimate and Sharon has no idea what to do with what he says next. 

“Yeah, you are.” It was so much easier when she just _hated_ him, hated him. Now it's more like Sharon just "hates" him, and the difference between the two is startling, making her stomach churn in a horrible, unexpected way. Stupid, gorgeous football player Steve Rogers, with his stupid talented mouth and soft hair. God, she is so fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> added a little bit on the end, so if you've read this on tumblr the ending is a teeny bit longer. also, tell me if i should up the rating on this. i'm not sure if it's full on "mature" territory, so, lemme know


	2. Chapter 2

 

Freshman Year 

 

* * *

 

“Why are you so annoying?” Sharon huffs in annoyance, folding her arms over her too-tight blazer and hating the way that his eyes dart in the direction of her chest. Things have been tight with money lately, with all of Aunt Peggy’s doctors appointments and the recent expenses for the funeral. Sharon doesn’t begrudge Aunt Peggy anything, of course.

Sharon is fifteen years old, bitter, and basically worships the ground her aunt walks on. So some of her clothes are a bit old, who cares? All that matters is that Peggy is getting the help she needs. Sharon narrows her eyes at Steve’s response to her anger, more infuriated than before, as if that was even possible.

“Why do you insist on defying me at every turn?” he snaps, snatching the team’s messy notes away from her. They’re whisper-fighting near their delegated table, or at least trying to, but Steve’s making it really hard for Sharon not to raise her voice right now. “You’re being ridiculous,” he insists, rolling his eyes in that way that she hates at her, and stabbing his finger at the notes as if they’ll somehow magically prove his point for him. “I know that I’m right–”

“Listen, you self-entitled, conceited, arrogant prick–”

“Uh, guys?” a weary Helen Cho interrupts, glancing back at the timer and then between the bickering Steve and Sharon, “You do know that debate team is for arguing against the other side, right? We’re losing time here,” she explains in that calm manner of hers. Sharon’s blood is still boiling, but she knows that if they don’t solve this now, they’re going to lose the competition. She sends one more dirty look Steve’s way, then makes a snap decision.

“We can do it your way,” Sharon tells Steve, ignoring his fake-gasp and look of shock; the glint in his eye as he teases her. “But don’t get any ideas. If this backfires, I’m never speaking to you again.”

“You say that as if it’s a threat,” he grins, and Sharon feels her teeth grit together, an automatic response.

“I swear to god, if someone doesn’t hold me back right now–” Helen quickly grabs Sharon’s arm.

 

* * *

 

Sharon ends up at Natasha’s after the debate, pacing her friend’s small room and ranting. She doesn’t even know how she got there, really. She’d probably just stormed over in a blind rage after Aunt Peggy had picked her up from school, all of her resentment simmering away under the surface.

They’d won the debate. Sharon hates it. Not because they won, but because they won because of him. Of course he had outsmarted her again. Of course he was Mr. Perfect, just like always, because god forbid poor little Sharon got her way once in a lifetime.

She’d only let him have his way because she was slightly nervous in front of crowds. Sure, she could stand up to bullies and get in endless fights, but being judged like that was a whole new experience for her. She hates that she was even slightly nervous, and the fact that Steve probably saw it.

“I hate him,” Sharon seethes, stopping in front of Nat’s bed for the fourth time that night. “I hate how arrogant, and condescending, and smug he is, the absolute assh–”

“Are you done?” Natasha asks, looking up from her phone and raising an eyebrow. She’s laying down with her feet up against her headboard, head towards Sharon, and she’s obviously incredibly amused. “As much as I love to hear you trash-talk my friends, are we going to do anything else tonight? Like watch a movie? You know, what you promised?”

Sharon narrows her eyes at her friend, grabbing a pillow off of the floor and throwing it at her. Natasha doges it easily, cackling.

“A) I have no idea why you call him a friend, and b) only if it’s Sleepless in Seattle.” Natasha rolls her eyes.

“What, you don’t have it memorized already?”

Sharon shoves Nat to the side of her bed, stealing the remote off of the bedside table as she settles in next to her. “You know nothing. Meg Ryan is a goddess among women.”

“Whatever you say, blondie.”


	3. Chapter 3

Senior Year

 

* * *

 

The fighting is absolutely ruined; soiled; and it’s all Sharon’s fault. Before, when she used to yell at him, Sharon could take comfort in how much she hated everything about Steve: the way that his cheeks flushed when he was angry, the way that his forehead creased and the stubborn way that he refused to back down from a challenge. There had been nothing more irritating to her than all of his qualities put together, directed against her in class. 

Now, all of that tainted by the fact that she’d seen him naked. Instead of being able to laugh to herself at the stupid faces that he makes, she can’t help but connect the separate events in her life; the sex and the arguing. When his cheeks get all red like they do, she pictures him pinning her against a wall, her legs around his waist and his face flushed from the effort of holding her up. When he licks his lips, she imagines them all over her: on her neck, on her breasts, even on her own (not that she lets him kiss her that often). 

Everything is completely, irrevocably, ruined; and worst of all is that fact that she can’t seem to make it stop. Every time she wants to tell him that they can’t keep doing this, he’ll stop her in the hallway, whisper a quick request in her ear, and she finds herself following him yet again. 

Steve’s eyebrows push together as their history teacher breaks up yet another argument, and his eyes meet hers across the room, dark and different than she’s ever seen them before, at least in class. _Fuck_ ; he feels it too. 

Sharon shakes the feeling away, trying to concentrate on the lecture. She feels her phone buzz in her pocket, inherently knows that it’s Steve, and ignores it anyway. 

 

* * *

 

She’s eating with Natasha at one of the many restaurants near their school after classes are out for the day (gotta love small towns; nothing to do but eat) when Steve ambles over. Sharon pretends to be extremely into her burger as he settles in across from Nat at their table, and he pretends to not obviously check her out. 

“Sharon,” he greets, voice dry, “looking lovely as always.”

“Are you lost?” she asks, angry at him with looking so good and hating herself for noticing. He looks confused, poor guy, and she clarifies. “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line.” Natasha snorts into her milkshake, and much to Sharon’s dismay, Steve actually looks sort of hurt. 

“Sorry,” he shoots back at her, “wasn’t aware that I was picking you up.” 

Sharon’s eyes narrow. This is headed way past their usual, anger-charged banter and moving a lot closer to just plain insults. She’s never felt like this when they argue, actually taking note of the effect that her words have on him. She used to enjoy making him suffer, and now all she can think about is making him suffer in much different, unique ways. Sharon bristles, sitting up straighter, and tries to become a walking definition of the phrase “if looks could kill”. 

Natasha reaches an arm out before things get too heated, silently pleading with Sharon to chill out. Sharon shakes her off but looks away from Steve, trying to get her breathing in check. She’s intensely aware of the fact that she’s blushing, all the way down to her chest, and tries to think of the least sexy thing possible: Principal Fury in a speedo; puppies dying. It must work, because Nat looks between her two friends and decides that it’s safe for the moment, getting up to throw her trash away. 

Steve leans in quickly as soon as Nat’s back is turned. “What was that in class today?” he hisses, and Sharon rolls her eyes. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Shut up,” he snaps, voice raspy. There’s too much emotion there. It’s different than him trying to prove a point. “I hate when you play this clueless blonde bullshit. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that.” 

“Newsflash, golden boy, but in case you haven’t grasped this fact yet, I feel absolutely nothing for you. Except for intense hatred.” Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat, away from her. When they open again, they lack the intense look that he’d been giving her moments before. 

“Fine. My car, twenty minutes?” he offers, and Sharon feels her entire mood shifting. What is it about this boy, that he can make her feel so many things at once? She’ll never understand it, how she can hate him so intensely and yet want to bang him literally all the time. 

“I’ll think about it,” she concedes, right as Natasha sits back down next to her. She looks between Sharon and Steve, eyebrows raised. 

“Did I miss something?” she asks, and they’re both quick to answer “no” at the exact same time. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic isn't serious lmao but i hope u guys are finding it as fun as i am

 

Senior Year

 

* * *

  

The first time goes like this: it is completely unexpected and wonderful and horrible. It's a secret that they both keep hidden, something that Sharon likes to pretend hadn't even happened, until now. Until... this. And now she can't stop thinking about it. 

 

* * *

 

Junior Year 

 

* * *

 

Sharon doesn't even want to be at this party.  She wants to sit in her tiny room at Aunt Peggy's house, one that hasn't been changed since the last time she was there at twelve years old, and wallow like she's been doing since she'd gotten to Virginia. 

But Nat had insisted, and what Natasha wants, she gets. So Sharon sucks it up and gets wasted and pretends that her parents aren't dead and that her life hasn't completely gone to shit. 

 

* * *

Steve is there, but where isn't he? Sharon can't seem to escape his smug smile and his stupid, chiseled jaw; the unbearable way that he always  _looks_  at her. She wishes he would just stop looking.  

 

* * *

 

Steve watches from behind his cup as Sharon gets more and more drunk, and her insults get louder and louder. Still, they somehow manage to be as sharp-witted and biting as ever. He doesn't have the energy or the will to fight back with her, and he wonders if it's the alcohol or something else. So he sits in their circle of spin the bottle and laughs to himself as her references get less and less obscure. It's a testament to her intelligence, really, that up to this point she'd been managing to reference literature that even _he_ didn't know about. 

"You're disgusting," she spits, tossing back another shot. Natasha throws him a pitying look, but shrugs, as if there's nothing she can do to control Sharon. Which, Steve muses, is probably true. He smirks to himself when Sharon's eyes narrow. (He never said he didn't like riling her up.) "Who even invited you to this party anyway, Boo Radley? Fuck," she sighs at what Steve understands is her now-empty cup, "I hate you so much." 

Sam snorts next to him. 

That last insult is when Steve knows that she's officially  _too_  drunk, because her words are slurring, the only thing she can say is that she hates him (over and over again), and really, only she can get completely smashed an hour into a party like this, in the midst of playing spin the bottle. 

For some inexplicable reason, Steve honestly thinks he's going to throw up when some scumbag leans over and whispers something into Sharon's ear, and she throws her head back, laughing, so different from the up tight control freak persona that she always wears around him. He wonders what it could be that Brock had said (and honestly, Brock, is that even a real name?) and if he could repeat those words to get the same reaction from her. 

Steve feels queasy from the alcohol and maybe these new feelings for a girl that he's only been barely tolerating up until then, so he wanders up the stairs, sits in the hallway, and tries his hardest not to think about her. 

It's obviously unsuccessful, because he seems to have summoned her instead. Speak of the devil. 

He hears a thump, a whispered "fuck", and stands up, waiting to see a couple making out and stumbling up the stairs. 

But it's not. It's Sharon standing in front of him, red cup in hand, t-shirt slipping down her shoulder, hair mussed and really too adorable looking for her own good. 

"Oh," she says, when she sees him. 

And the next thing Steve knows, Sharon's shoving him against the door of who knows whose bedroom, tongue in his mouth, red solo dropped and forgotten on the floor.

She tastes like rum and chocolate and something else, something uniquely Sharon, because he's kissed girls before but he's never been kissed like  _this_. Because Steve can't breathe and she's everywhere — her hands in his hair, her lips on his skin, her scent surrounding him and making him dizzy. 

Steve forces himself to pull away, because she's drunk and this isn't the way he imagined this would happen for the first time. Not that he's pictured it before. Of course not. 

Sharon lets out a little whine when he pulls away, placing his hands on her shoulders. 

"We can't," he says, and it's the hardest thing he's ever had to say in his life. "You're drunk. I'm taking advantage." This is stupid. She hates him. He... hates her. "We... we can't." 

And then her lips are right in his ear, tugging at his earlobe, whispering, "I swear to god, if you don't take me into that room in the next 20 seconds, I will hate you a thousand times more than I already do." 

So he takes her into the bedroom and tries not to tell her everything he's thinking, but Steve is nothing if not earnestly honest, and he can't help it.

"Sharon," he breathes, and she slaps a hand over his mouth, ignoring the way that he grimaces underneath it. 

"Shut up," she gasps, "no talking".  

 

* * *

 

"You're an imbecile! Oh my god, you can't honestly believe that it would've been more strategic for the French to have-"  Sharon's eyes flash, dangerous, when Steve interrupts her. 

"Well, tell me what you believe, princess, because I doubt that-"

"ENOUGH!" their history teacher yells, exasperated. It's one of many arguments that he's had to end during the year. He can't quiet ever seem to get them to stop, though. "You two," he sighs, while the rest of the students laugh, "see me after class." He never has to specify who he's speaking to. 

"Worth it," Sharon mutters, leaning closer to Natasha. Nat rolls her eyes. 

Steve just sits there, smirking, annoying, completely and utterly infuriating. It's all he can do to stop the barrage of thoughts —  _does she remember? Does she think about it all the time?_ Because he does. He thinks about it every day. 

 

* * *

"Ms. Carter," Mr. Sousa calls Sharon over to his desk after the bell rings. "Stay for a second." Sharon hesitates, not wanting to be late, but he waves it off. "I'll write you a pass."

"Something wrong?" Sharon asks. She wonders if this is about Aunt Peggy. It's weird, knowing that one of her teachers used to date her aunt, but it's supposedly all in the past. 

Mr. Sousa smiles politely. "I think you could really benefit from a tutor. You have great ideas, Sharon, but I'm not sure that they always translate so well on paper." Sharon pauses, glances down at her hands. 

"Right. Do we even have tutoring at this school? I thought that was like, a myth." Sousa laughs, hands her a slip of paper to fill out. Sharon skims it, eyes widening when she sees the name of the tutor. 

"Oh, Mr. Sousa-"  Sharon starts, already trying to figure out a way to worm her way out of this, but he just shakes his head. 

Sousa writes Sharon's pass as he interrupts her. "It's either Mr. Rogers or a subpar grade in my class, Sharon. I know you two have differences, but it's a choice that you have to make. I hope you make the right one." 

Sharon sighs, taking the pass that he hands over. "Differences. Right."


End file.
